


Rushmore Ruffians

by MsSchneeheide



Series: P*ssy Music [3]
Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: AU, Gen, The Smiths - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23913001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsSchneeheide/pseuds/MsSchneeheide
Summary: At a fair there's who has fun, and some who work; one blends in and another sticks out; someone falls in love, and someone's beaten up. Sequel to "Girlfriend in a Coma", inspired by the Smiths’ “Rusholme Ruffians”.
Series: P*ssy Music [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592911





	Rushmore Ruffians

“Last year at that fair they almost killed a boy.”

“Hardly.”

Arms crossing. “You are not going.”

Eyes widening “...What??”

“No.” A set jaw.

“Pfft." Another one. "I bet it’s all the action they saw there in, like, three generations.”

“You are still recovering -”

“I’m fine!” she put down her mug loudly.

“Marisol!” the older woman did the same with hers.

“Mom!”

“...”

“...”

…”Oh,” she gave up, raising her hands. “Haz lo que quieres. Siempre lo haces.”

Her daughter smiled. “That’s what adults do.”

“Well. No me gusta,” Theresa grumbled, shaking her head.

"Nunca te ha gustado,” she gulped down the last of her coffee, kissed her cheek and picked up the bag.

“Be safe!” Theresa called after her.

“Yeah… See ya tonight!” And Flaca left to work.

* * *

It’d been months since the accident, but her mother was still being overbearing.

Gosh she really needed to find a place for herself, or a room to share.

It was true - Lourdes, who knew all the gossip, had told them: the previous year at the fair they had stabbed a boy.

Almost stabbed by the big wheel with a candy apple popsicle stick, kid had flaunted the latest I-phone around and another had started fighting him over it. Typical spoiled brats' problems.

“You done?”

“Basically,” she said, putting the last glasses on their shelf.

“Go then,” Z shooed her away.

“Wha… no, Imma help you prep!” she protested.

“I’m almost finished.”

“But…”

“Hey Goth Barbie,” she stopped and gave her a menacing stare, fake-growling and grinding her teeth.

Flaca’s eyebrows rose unimpressed, and she put down the cloth. “You really think you’re scary?”

Zirconia frowned. “It worked before.”

Flaca shrugged. “It’s the new teeth.”

"Darn," she gave up the pose.

"OK, so…"

"There's nothing left," she said quickly, ordering salt and pepper shakers with leisure.

Flaca looked around - tables: check; opened the kitchen: check; toilet: ... Ew. The guys' was still to do.

Sneaking a peek at her colleague, she saw her super intent on counting toothpicks now. Flaca made a face, then schooled her expression. No judgement policy, right. Everybody got their kinks.

"I'm goin'," she collected her things and fixed her bangs again.

"Have fun tomorrow!" the other woman grinned.

"Yeah…" she smiled faintly. "You too," and the door dinged as she went out.

"Best for last," she heard Zirconia murmur while leaving the place.

Ugh.

* * *

"And what's my gain, ah?" Aleida asked into the phone.

Her co-workers still appeared to be chatting with the clients, but were actually lending more than one ear to what Diaz was saying, speculating on what it could mean, but with no clue about what was going on on the opposite side.

"A'right," she kept on chewing on her gum.

"I trust ya to help me live up to mah scandalous reputation, mah friend," the voice said; but this was the part of the conversation only Aleida could hear.

"I dunno what you mean," she slammed the drawer close, the notes she'd taken within it.

Margarita and Maritza exchanged a glance.

"And bring that bad boy of yours if ya can, mh?"

"Yeah, yeah. Hey thanks… OK!" and Aleida hang up.

This had happened a few days before.

Now, Saturday morning, two cars almost full to the brim with their gear, they were ready to go.

"Where the fuck is the fuckin' purple glitt…" - or almost, anyway.

"OK listen, I gotta go or I'll never get there" Maritza gestured to her vehicle. After the accident she'd gotten something from the insurance and that asshole from the truck, but still had to downgrade. At least she’d found a used one in blue.

"Yeah, fine," Margarita assented, leaning against the other car's hood with sunglasses on. It was just too early for a Saturday.

"Yo! You don't waste time with Morticia on the road ah," Aleida admonished, going through another bag.

"Sure!" Maritza dismissed and entered the old Nissan Sentra.

"And drive c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y, you hear me?" Diaz added in a yell, looking up at her and punctuating the words with her index.

"Yep," she quipped, starting the engine. Trust Aleida to tell her to hurry and do it slow and safe.

"Good," she propped her hands on her hips, waiting to see the younger woman off.

"Byyye!" she waved and left; from the rearview mirror she could see the two stares following her with attention.

Aah. A smirk, unbidden, and a small flip in her stomach.

It felt good to have people care. And she hadn't stopped driving like, almost, at all, _after_ ; to think it was Flaca that had insisted, though Maritza had caught the worry in her big chocolate iris.

Even now she couldn't help the slight anxiety, especially when driving her friend around, especially at night, going through underpasses.

But she would huff or call her _abuelita_ 'cause she had become so extra cautious, Maritza then mocked her back and though both couldn't really forget the accident they went on. Unwittingly, closer than ever.

"'Bout time," she was greeted with a bright smile by the trolley-case bearing figure.

"Tut," she smiled back, getting off the vehicle to open the trunk and put the huge thing in. "That all?"

"Hopefully."

“Hey!,” Maritza grabbed her hand, turned it up and down and examined it critically. “What's _this_?” she asked with an accusing tone, passing her thumb over the other’s nails.

“Hey! It’s not that bad,” an arched eyebrow, and Flaca pulled to get her hand back, but Maritza held on tight. “Y’know it’s not my thing-thing.”

“Mh.”

“OK, so I was thinking we could do like a live tutorial,” she explained, “you can show those rich bitches how it’s done.”

“Yo, I like that!” Maritza lit up, pulling some more.

“It’s good right?” Flaca was proud.

“Yeah.”

They got in to leave.

Flaca was buckling her seatbelt, and Maritza glimpsed at movement behind a curtain; she waved discreetly and they exchanged a nod.

Theresa hadn’t liked her much before, she didn’t think, but now strangely they seemed to get along just fine; it was as if there had been a silent agreement between them since the hospital days, to take care of Flaca.

“And Juli?”

“Maybe my sister will bring her later.”

“Oh,” Flaca deflated.

“What?’”

“I miss her.”

“You didn’t say you missed _me_!” Maritza exclaimed offended, slowly stopping at the traffic light.

“I saw you two days ago!” when she had passed by the cafeteria, true.

“Well and you saw Juli, when, three?”

“‘Twas last Sunday,” she murmured, sulking.

“Mh,” Maritza restarted the car.

“I missed my fix. Maybe ‘cause it takes two or three Ramos to make a normal-size one,” added Flaca.

“Hey! My size’s just perfect,” Maritza said.

Flaca tsk tsked, but internally agreed.

It was a beautiful warm late August day outside; leaving the city and enjoying it for a few hours was great, even if they’d be working, kind of. There was some traffic on the road, going out to Long Island and on the Expressway, but it wasn’t too bad.

They left the I-495 and ventured through the darn cute lanes and drives with all their little houses-with-gardens, well-kept and quiet. 4th Avenue, Park Avenue, Magnolia…

“Wait! Rushmore! Turn right,” Flaca pointed.

“Here?”

“Yeah.”

And they soon found a spot to stop near the park that was their destination.

* * *

It was an annual event for the community, and always took place on the same weekend; basically it was a last chance for kids and their families to make the most of the end of the summer and have some fun before the school year began.

Everyone's focus was immediately drawn to the Ferris wheel, the one of the infamous 'stabbing', which towered over all the rest. Then there was a carousel, bumper cars, a bouncy castle, and other attractions and food stalls scattered on the parking lots and the lawn. But it was early, and not many people were around, apart from those setting things up.

And between a bottle ring toss and a cotton candy cart, where one of the organizers had told them to go, were Aleida and Margarita.

They'd be one of the Saturday attractions, asked to substitute for someone who'd bailed out at the last moment.

"No! Put it there," instructed Aleida.

"Why not like this?" Margarita scowled.

"'Cause white bitches here don't wanna just check their new face, they wanna see their neighbors' face at seeing their face," she explained.

"Oh! That’s true," and she set it right.

“Where’s the round mirror?”

“Mh… Maritza’s car?”

Aleida snorted and checked her watch. “We got some time.”

“Where’s more chairs?” asked Margarita, scanning their surroundings.

Just then she saw a large white-haired man with a ponytail approaching them.

“G’morning ladies!”

“Hello.”

Aleida looked up from her cuticle pusher set. “Yo, Bill!”

“So, you all ready?”

“We need chairs, for the clients,” she clarified.

“Right…,” he scratched his head. “I can ask, they’ll bring you some”

“Good.” Aleida paused. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“She’s coming later with Reg. They always leave me the worst jobs.”

“It’s the _manly_ jobs,” Aleida stressed, hands on her hips. “Tell her we gotta talk business!”

“Sure,” he nodded. “You need anything else, I’m back there,” and he gestured to the small stage where they were fixing some cables.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks!”

And he went his way.

“...How could Judy King land a man like him,” Margarita sighed, following him with her eyes.

Aleida sized him up as he was walking away, considering; “I tell ya, she got a trick or two we can learn.”

* * *

Two hours later, around eleven, they were all busy at work. More and more people had flocked in, the games were all running, the various food smells mixing in the air.

“...And here we go back to the waning crescent,” Maritza illustrated, putting the last touches on Flaca’s left pinkie and showing it off to the women in front of her.

Flaca smiled graciously.

Their moon phase nail art live tutorial was a success.

Margarita and Aleida were also doing manis, chatting up another couple of ladies.

This would be a good publicity stunt for the salon, that was why Aleida had accepted Judy King's proposal. That, and the promise of a cut on this month's loan payment.

"The hell are you?" Margarita asked heatedly into the phone, receiving a glare from her colleague, at which she _humph_ and got up to walk a few steps to the side.

"Excuse her," Aleida told her client, polishing away. "She wasn't brought up in a fancy-ass area like this."

Flaca pursed her lips, Maritza imperceptibly wrinkled her nose.

Around midday some louder voices came from the small stage. It was a short man from the organization greeting everyone, listing the various shows of the day - storytelling corner for kids from 3, a magician at 4, live music later on - and presenting a special famous somebody.

"Thanks, Sugah. And thank y’all for inviting me here today," Judy King's southern drawl started.

"Finally!" Aleida exclaimed from her spot, not fifty yards away; she had waited long enough to discuss things with her. "Stop chatting, cabronas," she admonished the girls, who turned and listened up.

The older celebrity ex-con was advertising her afternoon baking masterclass, and then proceeded to talk of the cause she was there to support too - the Poussey Washington Fund.

"And there opposite the darts," she pointed, "you'll see one o' the projects financed by the Fund, managed by Miss Diaz and some more wonderful women." Aleida's mouth opened in a wide simper and she and Judy King waved at each other. "Now, go check out their fantastic work!"

"Yes, I'm a good friend of Miss King," Aleida confirmed her clienta. "All platonic, hey! She funny an' all but I'm not one of those gay for the stay chicks… or after," she finished with the gloss and shot a glance at Flaca and Maritza, who were very ostensibly not listening and going on with their job. "Not that there's nothing wrong with it."

Margarita blinked at her in disbelief and muttered something unintelligible under her breath.

A little way away, before stepping down the stage Judy King caught a glimpse of Cesar hurrying on the lawn, holding hands with a small child; their gazes crossed, she smirked and winked at him and he made a curt nod with his head.

"Why'd you take so long?" Margarita greeted Cesar, taking their daughter on her lap.

"Hi to you too," he answered.

"Hola," Maritza and Flaca said quite uninterested.

"Hey," Aleida grinned at him, clearing up her work station and standing up. "I gotta talk money with mistresschef there, you come with me."

"Why?" his brow furrowed.

"'Cause she _like_ you, pendejo. You can get me a discount."

It was deserved anyway, she had to reschedule appointments last minute and close the salon on her best day of the week; but the old bitch was a shark in business transactions, and any leverage was good with her.

"Margarita," he said.

"Go," she waved him off, not even looking, and continued fussing over Jazmín with Flaca and Maritza.

* * *

Gloria had got there with her daughters and granddaughter in the afternoon, and two guests.

"Baby!" Juliana run to Flaca at once.

"We carpooled," Isabela explained.

"Hey little missy! What about me?" Maritza complained.

"Shut up, you see her all the time," her friend shushed.

"Ppft. I _am_ the mother, y'know?"

"She can still pick me up and make me fly," her daughter reasoned.

"You weigh a ton!" Maritza defended, and turned to poke at Flaca's shoulder. "And she's oversize."

She got a stare in response.

"So, y'all," Gloria interrupted. "How's it goin'?" She had given Flaca the day off to come and help Diaz & co. with the makeup thing. Then she'd left the cafè to Zirconia and the others and done the same herself, just to enjoy a few free hours.

"Busy."

"Well!"

"Mh."

She settled on a free chair, chilling out; and soon Elena and Maritza went to try some games with their daughters.

Cecilia was letting Margarita do her nails, and her mother sipped on a beer, watching, just like Isabela. Flaca was fidgeting.

Gloria glowered at Aleida pointedly.

"Oh, for f…", and _bam_ she slammed her palm on the table. "Quit the moping and take a break Gonzales," she ordered.

"What?" she got out of her haze.

"Flaca, you heard the jefa of the day," Gloria said. "Go."

"For real?" she asked hopeful.

"Well, now all the desperate housewives are at Judy King's thing," Margarita intervened with a bored tone.

"Mh, you're useless like this anyway," Aleida grumbled.

"Thanks," Flaca smiled at her, and stood up.

She joined Maritza and Juliana who were deep in discussion, and hooked arms with the former.

"My chiquitas!"

"Flaca!" the small girl took her sleeve and pulled on it. "Help me."

"What's up?"

Maritza crossed her arms. "No."

"What?" Flaca frowned.

"But mom…" Juliana pleaded.

"I said no!"

"Mari?"

"Huff. She wants to do the fishbowl game."

"Oh!" Flaca lit up.

"No. Way."

"But Mari…"

"Who's gonna take care of it, mh? _You_?"

"It's just a goldfish! It's not like it's a dog."

Stolid, Maritza refused.

"I can feed it," Juliana repeated her previous argument.

"And the water?" she fired back.

"Y'know _I_ could come every day and, change the water from the big tank, or whatever," Flaca assured.

"That's crazy," sentenced Maritza.

"It's OK! Perfectly doable," she promised.

"Doable," Juliana echoed.

"Besides, we could get one of those filters."

Maritza stopped and observed them, pensive. "You two are the worst," she declared dramatically.

"Yay!" her friend and daughter high-fived, realizing she had caved.

"Let's go! Imma win you Nemo's cousin" Flaca grasped Juliana's left hand. Maritza rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the fond look in them; she took the other hand and they moved towards the stall.

From a distance, the women at the nail-and-makeup station had followed the scene.

"I thought, y'know, after the hospital an' all…" Margarita trailed off. Aleida groaned disgusted.

"Hitting her head did nothing good for Gonzales' thick brain."

"Well, my sis ain't much better," murmured Isabela.

"Maybe we could give them a push;" but Gloria didn't agree with Cecilia's suggestion.

"Another? Only thing left is locking them together in a closet, like in high school."

"They in the closet enough already," Aleida said.

"Mmh," they conceded.

"So where's Jazmín?" Gloria asked minutes later.

"Oh, somewhere with Cesar," Margarita answered. "I gotta get her when Flaritza is back."

"OK."

Work was slow, but it was good that at least two of them stay there and ready.

"Yo, is that them?" Cecilia pointed.

Margarita squinted… "Right, yeah… oh hell, what's that?"

"What…" Aleida imitated her. "Oh shit."

"Yeah. Fuck that pedo, I gotta go," she darted up and strutted towards her daughter on the far side of the lawn in her high heels.

"¿Qué pasa?" asked Gloria.

"She got a trauma or somethin'," Aleida helpfully explained, as they watched their friend.

She reached that poor clown who was about to give a yellow flower-shaped balloon to her kid, and teared it from his gloves, gesturing wildly.

"Aah," Isabela nodded wisely. "Makes sense."

* * *

They _had_ indeed won a goldfish, to Juliana's delight. And then they won another, to keep the first one company, they had reasoned with Maritza. What could she do? She had to accept her loss.

Now, some time later, they were back at work. Margarita'd had a break too, and Aleida was now on hers, with Cesar.

"What you gonna call them?" Isla asked Juliana, motioning to the goldfish in their water bags on the lawn, next to them.

"We dunno what they are so we found gender… gender…"

"Neutral," Flaca supplied.

"Yes. Names," Juliana said.

"What's that?" Isla was puzzled.

"It's names that are OK for boys and girls," the other kid recited.

"Yup," Flaca confirmed pleased, and Maritza shook her head but smiled, going on with her filing and squaring.

"Ooh! And what's the names?"

"Mx. Tawney and LaFontaine."

"Cool," Isla nodded, as if she got what that meant.

"I feel ancient," Gloria told her daughter, who was holding Margarita's child.

"It's because you are," Elena told her.

“Hey mom, when can we go on the wheel?”

“As soon as Aleida's back, baby,” Maritza answered.

Some stalls away Aleida and Cesar were leaving the shooting range.

"That fuckin' thing's rigged, I tell you," he lamented hotly. He hadn't hit the bull's-eye once, that was fuckin' impossible.

"Come," she dragged him on. "I wanna get a beer."

Half an hour later he sported a black eye, and she offered him another drink and fries.

Aleida had wanted to try the chair swing ride, and the whirling movement combined with her flailing limbs, flowing short skirt and lack of any other piece of garment underneath had resulted in a surprise show for some of the people standing nearby. A teenage boy had done an unfortunate commentary with his greasy-haired friends, and this had prompted Cesar's strong reaction to defend her honor - with fists raised.

"Three to one and they couldn't get me,' he bragged. "At their age I woulda been ashamed."

Aleida scoffed. "They're Nassau folks. They don't know life."

At some point, later on, he went back to town with his daughter.

In the early evening, after the magic show, a ride on the Ferris wheel with a glimpse of the ocean from the top and some more games, Elena and Isla, Isabela and Juliana took Maritza's car and left too.

Their day was coming to an end, but there were still a few hours for the remaining ladies to stay, final moves to make.

* * *

"What'd they want?"

"Usual. Beers and cokes. But let's take it easy, Aleida took forever to come back last time with our fod!"

"Mh-mh," Maritza agreed.

They bought two wines and sat on a free bench with a view of the concert that had begun.

It was just the second glass, but enough to make them feel hazy, senses dulled with the added tiredness from the day and all the sun they'd been exposed to.

"Hey, I got a nice tan today, you saw?" the smaller woman looked at her arms.

"You were already tanned before," Flaca replied.

A pout.

"But yeah, it's nice," she admitted, cheering her friend up.

She stretched, and Maritza snuggled some more against her, taking her dangling hand.

"This band's shit," she murmured drowsily.

"Mmh," Flaca closed her eyes too, inhaling deeply and content for a few moments. Then she felt a touch on her chest. "Mh?"

Maritza stole the henna pen from her breast pocket and fiddled with the cap.

"Noo, what you wanna do?"

"I wanna," she bit her lower lip, focused, "draw something. Aah!"

"It's on the other side," Flaca gestured to the cap-cap.

"Oh."

Maritza proceeded to try a mehndi design, with leaves and dots and flowers - and rather poor results.

"Fuck," she mumbled.

Flaca laughed. "You should do something simpler."

"Like what?" Maritza mused. "Oh, wait!"

She had now covered most of the available space on her left hand, and got to the inside of her forearm, above the wrist. Tip of her tongue between her lips in concentration, she finished with a flourish. "Voilà!"

"What's that?" Flaca turned her arm to check. "But… hahahah!" It was her name. "It looks like a five-year-old writing," she commented, but regarded it affectionately. "Why not your name?"

"Duh. Yours is shorter."

"A'right…" Flaca took the pen away from her friend's grip. "My turn!" and she put herself to the task.

"All done," she announced after a couple of minutes. "You like it?"

Starting with an initial scribble that vaguely resembled twin peaks and getting progressively bigger up to a final star, supposedly an A, one could make out a lopsided _M_ _ARITZA_ going from her elbow to her palm.

"It's huge!" the bearer of the name chuckled.

"Fuck, it's true… doing small letters was real hard," Flaca confessed.

"The hell are those two? I'm thirsty," Aleida was complaining, back at their spot.

"They probably havin' a moment," Margarita considered.

"Aww," Cecilia approved.

"They been havin' 'moments' for years. What they need now is to get so…"

"Aleida, déjalas. _We_ gotta be there for them, but _they_ gotta take the last step," Gloria said.

"Mh. Yeah, yeah, mami," Aleida snorted. "OK, but for real, what about my beer?"

* * *

Dubious, Bill studied the two car trunks again.

"You sure it's fine?" he asked the owners.

"Naa, it's too darn late now," Aleida confirmed.

Yes, it had been a fun and satisfying day - but long and tiring as well. They'd put too much of their stuff in Gloria's car and too little in Maritza's, but moving things at this point sounded just too exhausting.

"Thank you Mr Montgomery," Margarita told him, getting an elbow in her ribs from Aleida. "And Reg, and Miss King!"

"Yeah, thanks," Diaz repeated, and Maritza, Flaca and the others echoed the sentiment.

"It's nothing," assured Reg.

"Good night ladies! See you soon I hope," greeted Bill, and with a gesture to their woman the two men strolled towards the only still open beer stall.

"I hope," whispered Margarita.

"So, Judy, we are on, right?" Aleida asked, all business.

"O'course mah friend! We don't need documents between us right?" she winked.

"Mmh…"

"Good. So," she looked round at everyone, "thank you again for saving mah day and helping the cause."

"Yeah, bu…"

"We will meet again soon I trust," she patted some shoulders and distributed warm smiles. "Now excuse me, ha' to make sure Bill doesn't drink Reg under the table… again," she laughed. "G'night!"

"Bye Miss King!"

"'Night."

…"Yeah, bye," Aleida's eyes narrowed as she bore a hole in her back. Mh. Darn hawk.

"So, how we gonna do this?" Cecilia asked.

* * *

And in the end Aleida went with Gloria ("I gotta tell you 'bout a man I found for your tía Lourdes, she gonna lay back you see" - "Oh fuck. Good night nenas, if I kill her come see me at Litchfield"), while Margarita gave Cecilia, Flaca and Maritza a ride back.

"It's been a good day right?" Cecilia asked.

"Hell yeah," Margarita said, and steered the wheel to turn and take the Expressway. "Gave out dozens of cards to those rich Jews."

"Oh yes, lots of 'em there mh?"

"Mh-mh," she assented, checking the back seat with her mirror.

Flaca and Maritza were squeezed between the window and a purple bag of brushes and coton balls, with the smaller girl half on the other's lap, and they were whispering closely.

"Did you see that old math teacher-like type after my restyling?"

"Yeah! You transformed her into, like, the sexy teacher type!" They giggled.

"Ooh, but did _you_ see the butterfly pattern I did on that lanky girl?"

" _Obviously_ I did! And that was also some excellent trimming and shaping," she praised.

"Thanks!" Maritza beamed, and took her bestie's hand. "Lemme see… it's holding up well!" she examined her own work.

"Right? It is," Flaca smiled at their intertwined fingers, and their thumbs started playing with each other, battling, circling and caressing.

"Oh hell," Margarita exhaled.

"Flaca, your stop," Cecilia announced.

"Oh?" the two stopped and looked out. Right.

"My things are in the trunk."

"It's open."

"OK. Thanks Margarita! 'Night Cee," she greeted them.

"G'night Flaca!"

"Wait, I'll help you," Maritza offered.

"Pfft," Margarita started drumming her fingers on the wheel.

"Wo!" they put the trolley case on the pavement. "How come it weighs more than this morning?"

Flaca shrugged.

"So," she began. "Say hi to Juli for me."

Maritza frowned. "We're still on for the cinema tomorrow, right?"

"Oh!" Flaca brightened up. "Right."

Margarita flashed her high beams.

"OK, so, good night," Maritza said, her hand resting near Flaca's by the handle of her trolley case.

"G'night. Text me when you get home?" her friend asked.

"Duh. Of _course_ ," she rolled her eyes, and smiled.

"OK."

"OK."

They got nearer, carefully, and Maritza left her a kiss on the cheek, which Flaca gave back.

"Bye Flaca."

"Bye Maritza."

"I got work on Monday!" Margarita yelled from the car, and Maritza stepped back to open her door, gaze following the tall form on her short route.

There were no stars above to be seen, but city lights far against the dark sky and a few nearer from the buildings on her street.

It had been such a good day… Flaca smiled and breathed the fresh night air deep in her lungs.

And though she walked home alone, she could feel warmth seeping from her back to the front, her guts and stomach, her chest; and though she might walk home alone, the faith in love in her heart was still devout.


End file.
